Klaus has difficulty adjusting to Skifandrian gender roles.

(#00343)

The view out the window and the scent of the air. There was no doubt about it. This was the lost civilisation of Skifander. A low-quality brigadoon one could only stumble onto when one became lost in the southern Americas.

“Good. You are awake. You are in luck, stranger. The Queen Herself has selected you as her mate. Should you survive your injuries.”

This was one of the Interpreters. Those who had picked up the languages of lost travellers and were basically kept around for emergencies. “Was there… a transportation device?”

“The wreckage is in the Science District,” said the Interpreter. “And there it will stay until you have proven worthy.”

Which, if he remembered his Geographica Arcanum, meant that the Queen was of mothering age and had to produce an heir.

A servant girl entered, bearing a tray and what appeared to be a pair of bandoliers. “The Queen bids you wear this.”

Klaus held it up. It was a posing pouch with crossing-bandollier-style pockets.

“Now listen here! I am Lord Klaus Euphrates Wulfenbach and I must get back to Europe before Lucrezia—”

The servant struck him. “You do not talk to a woman that way. Boy.”

It set the tone for most of his visit.

Skifandran women were lean, small, and willowy. They were also fast, brutal, and possessed the temperament of a sack full of wolverines. The Queen was no different.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“I am Lord Klaus Wulf—”

SWACK!

“Your name is what I bid it to be. What is your name?”

“I am Lord Klau—”

SWACK!

She sighed. “You are a very slow learner. What is your name?”

Klaus calculated the odds of being executed for being an unsuitable mate for the Queen, and played Newly Humble. “My name… is what you bid it.”

She hit him again anyway. “Your name is Chump. Repeat.”

“My name is…” he almost choked on it. “Chump.”

He had to survive. To get back to Europe.

Something bad was going to happen there. And he had to help the Heterodyne boys defeat it.

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